TITLE: Darkest before dawn #9 "Conversation"
AUTHOR: Nmissi@aol.com
PART: 9/??
PAIRING: B/S
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I would share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it goes.
RATING: R, for sexual situations
SPOILERS:IWMTLY, The Body, pretty much everything else.
SUMMARY: The way the story would go, if I ran the Buffyverse.
He slipped his arm out from beneath her head, and gently lifted up off of the bed. He didn't want to wake her; he had the impression she hadn't been getting much sleep lately and this looked like a pretty deep slumber.
The alarm clock on the dresser said that it was 4:30. They'd slept most of the day. Spike worried then- He'd only meant to lay down about an hour, then start making calls. He'd missed some crucial hours in their search. It disturbed him.
Wandering back into the living room, he located the telephone. A few minutes rummaging in one of the end tables produced a phone book, and so he settled onto the white couch to reach out to some contacts.
He thought briefly of Angel, then decided to wait. If they needed him, they'd bring him in. But Spike's history with his Sire made the prospect uncomfortable. There was a decent chance Angel would just stake him on sight. Not merely for past injuries, (there was that whole nasty bit with the hired thug), but Spike was guessing Angel might not approve of his newfound closeness to Buffy.
"Jealous Bugger." He thought, but with no real animosity. He was inclined to be pretty damn jealous at times too.
"Hello, Lovely," he crooned into the phone.
On the other end, a demoness he'd been somewhat friendly with in the past vacillated between excitement and annoyance. She was both flattered he remembered her, and peeved he'd not called in two years.
"Yeah, I'm sorry to wake you, I know it's an unseemly hour of the day…I'm in town on business. Yeah, It's great to hear your voice too... Listen, pet, I'm looking for a little girl. No, No! Nothing like that. Just a runaway. Name of Dawn. Long brown hair, big doe eyes… She probably hit town Wednesday last. Anyway, I know you get around... Lord love you, I miss those days too! But I thought you might keep an eye out tonight on the streets? Look for a new girl? Real young 'n innocent, like. 'Bout fifteen I'd say. It'd be an awesome favor to me, Lillith. Really…Okay... Love you too."
He rolled his eyes and made kisses into the phone, then he rang off.
"Insufferable creature. Bloody woman always talks too much."
But then, that was why he'd phoned her. Lillith knew everyone and in Los Angeles, and she had a predilection for young men. He knew she frequented the rebellious teen scene here; and hoped she'd hear about or catch sight of a fresh new runaway.
He got up off of the couch, and went into the kitchen. His stomach rumbled oddly at him, and he realized he hadn't fed since early yesterday. A meal of butcher's blood at that.
"Nasty stuff, that. Hmm. Wonder if there's anything to eat in here."
He hunted around the fridge, and came up with a steak, and some prissy alcoholic beverage that called itself Zima. It wasn't real beer, but it was alcohol, and it would suffice. He swigged off of it, while he heated up a skillet and prepared the steak. He seared it on both sides, leaving the center bloody. Then, armed with food and phone, he went back to work.
Several calls later, he still had no real leads. He'd called the shelters, but they wouldn't give him any information. He'd called a few more associates, but that didn't really go anywhere either. He was hesitant to give out any real information on his quarry, not wanting to place Dawn in additional danger. Thusly he gave people little to go on. He played briefly with the notion of contacting the police, then discarded the idea. If Hank Summers hadn't brought them in yet, he wasn't going to. Besides that, Spike innately distrusted law enforcement.
He checked the clock. She'd be up soon, surely, he thought. Then he picked up her god-awful purse from the coffee table.
"Hideous thing, this," said he, as he contemplated the floral monstrosity. Where had she put them? He rooted around, under wallet, housekeys, makeup bag, toothbrush-
"toothbrush?" he queried, holding up the portable, in its own carry-case. Shaking his head, he tossed it back into the mix and kept looking. They were in here, he'd seen her put them back this morning…
"Aha!"
He clutched the box of smokes in his fist. Target acquired. He flipped the top up.
"ooh, very thoughtful. She bought a new pack."
He lit one, tossing the pack back into her purse, and the purse onto the couch beside him.
Behind him, he heard footsteps, and caught her scent. She stumbled sleepily into the room, and collapsed onto the couch with him. Reaching between them, she took up the purse, and dug for the cigarettes.
"Nasty habit you've acquired, love," he remarked, as she put the lit fag to her lips.
"I seem to have several of them these days."
He ignored that pointed reference to himself, and told her what he'd been doing. She listened attentively, nodding.
"I think you're right. I don't think she's left the area. We should call Angel, get him involved"-
His brow wrinkled, and she dimly realized she'd hurt his feelings. She kicked herself- She should have thought about Spike's Sire Issues before she brought him out here.
"Spike, I don't have time for your macho bullshit. You and Angel? Work it Out. If you think I'm going to let you this up for me, you can"-
He interrupted her, shaking his head.
"It's not that. Well, okay, it is, but the whole Me-Angel thing, It's not why I don't want to involve him. Not that I'm exactly ebullient at the idea of a little family reunion"-
"Ebullient?" she asked
He sighed.
"What kind of education do you people get these days? It means Cheerful, Joyous…Not exactly how I'd describe my feelings about Angelus…But nevermind that. Buffy, Has it occurred to you that Angel might not know Dawn?"
There it was again. She kept forgetting that Dawn's origins were less than ordinary. He was right- Angel had never even seen her sister, didn't know she had one. All the memories she had of them together, Angel and Dawn- they were manufactured, and there was no guarantee Angel shared them. How far did the effects of the monk's spell reach? Did they go all the way to L.A.? Of course, Dad had known Dawn- But creating a "father" might be more vital than establishing a link to a sister's ex boyfriend. Without contacting Angel, she'd have no way of knowing. And if she called him, she'd have to explain all of it, the whole mess with Dawn.
"I still think we should call him."
Spike looked away from her, and she could see the tension in him at the suggestion. She was momentarily annoyed at him for it. How dare he start this when she was already under so much stress? There was no formal "arrangement" between them- She knew he loved her, but he knew she didn't return those feelings. How dare he start this jealousy crap?
She opened her mouth to go off on him, but he was dialing the phone, so she held her tongue and waited to pounce.
He listened, then made a face, and hit off. Then he redialed. After a minute he turned to her again.
"Number's been changed. Do you have a newer one?"
Her confusion was evident.
"What number?"
"For Peaches, Slayer. I'm getting a "your call cannot be completed as dialed." Do you have another?"
"Let me try."
She wrenched the phone out of his hands, and he made a face at her.
After a few tries, she turned to him, and caught the smug look in his eyes.
It didn't improve her mood.
"Damn you."
He lifted his eyebrow and gave her his best innocent look.
"What? S' not my fault he didn't give you the new number."
"Maybe not, but do you have to stand there gloating about it?"
He dropped the act.
"Sorry, Slayer. I didn't think about how it might have hurt your feelings."
She sank back down onto the couch.
"It did hurt my feelings. But worse than the hurt-feelings stuff, is finding out that I can still HAVE hurt feelings about it. It seems so petty and stupid, but it bothers me that it bothers me."
He watched her a moment, scrutinizing.
"What? What are you looking at me like that for?"
"I'm just thinking."
"About what?"
He looked a little embarrassed.
"I'm trying to figure out whether this is one of the times I'm expected to hug you and be all comforting-like, or if it's one of the times I'm supposed to provoke you and let you hit me in the face."
She looked up at him, astonished.
"Is that how you see it?"
"See what?"
"Us?"
He waited a beat, then softly he said,
"I thought you said there is no "us"."
She was silent.
"I'm sorry about that. About saying that. I- I hurt you, and I really didn't mean to. It's just"-
He came back to her side, then, and cut her words off with his hand. Her eyes above his hand were startled.
"Ssh. Don't say it. Don't say anything unless you're sure and you mean it. Whatever it is, for better or worse, you really can't take it back later."
He released her, and she stayed silent.
"Now then. Shouldn't we be getting ready to hit the streets? It's almost full dark. I had a thought, maybe we'd go in and out of the club scene, where the kids hang. If she's messed up, trying to escape her problems, she might be doing it there."
His unspoken allegations played in her head. "Messed Up". Escaping her problems. She pictured Dawn with the blood running down her arms, onto the linoleum. And wondered if there were worse to come. She could be "escaping" into anything. Drugs, sex, liquor…Kids did it all the time.
She noted with irony the ash falling from her cigarette.
She nodded, and Spike headed down the hall.
"Where's the loo?"
"Huh?"
"The loo, pet- The bloody bathroom. I smell like a brewery, I need a shower."
He looked her over.
"You could use one too, I think."
"It's the second door on the left, off the master bedroom. Um… Do you have extra clothes, or are you just gonna put those back on?"
She said this, gesturing disdainfully at his apparel with her nose wrinkled up.
"Well, yeah, I was."
He saw disapproval in her blue eyes, and continued.
"But if you could nip out to the car for me, I've got a bag in the trunk. Might be something wearable in it."
She nodded, and he was suddenly glad he hadn't returned the stuff to the Gap yet. Suddenly his embarrassing new wardrobe idea had new merit.
"Where are the keys?"
"He fished in his pants pocket, and tossed them to her. She made her way out the door.